


Stay

by psychoffic



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Intimidation, Jealous Sherlock, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Nervousness, Protective John, Sherlock - Freeform, Short & Sweet, Shy Sherlock Holmes, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29485818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoffic/pseuds/psychoffic
Summary: John is headed out on a date with his girlfriend for Valentines Day. Sherlock stops him at the door, as he suddenly realizes he does not want to be alone tonight. Love confessions ensue.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68
Collections: Liriels TJLC Faves Safe





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kerry_berry137](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerry_berry137/gifts).



> This is based on a prompt given to me by Kerry_berry137. It features a shy!Sherlock as requested. 
> 
> I am accepting prompts, you can see for which ships if you read my profile! If anyone is interested, comment below and I will fulfill it :) The work will be gifted to you.

“I am going out.” John announced. 

Sherlock looked up, his hands which have been previously furiously re-arranging crime scene photos stilled in surprise. John had not mentioned any plans to leave. The detective glanced at the clock, it was late evening. 

“What, where?”

“I have a meeting, “ The soldier shifted on his feet, one of his bushy eyebrows raising up, “Sherlock, I told you about it a week ago. Were you not listening?”

“I tune out a lot of what you say John. Only 50% of your words are valid enough for me to remember.” Sherlock resumed his actions. He placed the full body photograph at the top corner of the table, whilst the one with the shoes was placed in the bottom right. He was missing something here. It was quite clear. The solution was biting at him. It was on the tip of his tongue, he just needed to think. Though, John was making it quite hard, as he stood at the door. It was tearing away the detective's attention.

“Wow, well thanks for that. Anyways, I am off. Ta.” John reached out, grabbing for the door handle. 

Sherlock looked up in surprise, his hands stilling once more, “Wait, what meeting?”

“Why does it matter?” The soldier sighed. His body was angled towards Sherlock, clear frustration showing in the way his shoulders tensed. The detective ran his eyes down the outfit. A striped button up, perfectly ironed. A pair of black slacks, accompanied by recently polished shoes. A light tan jacket wrapped up the broad shoulders; it was recently bought, replacing the usually worn blue coat. 

“You are going on a date.” Sherlock concluded. His eyebrows furrowed as a plummet of disappointment surged through his body. A date? Why would John need to go on a date? Everything he needed was here.

“Yes, with Sophie.”

“Sophie?”

“Yes, Sherlock, I told you about her. I have been dating her for two months now.”

“Well, she can wait. This case needs to be solved.”

“I can't just cancel. It is Valentines Day.” John replied, a note of exasperation crossing his voice. 

“Ah yes, a holiday made up by greedy corporations to sell products. Wonderful holiday.”

“Sherlock, I am not going to cancel. You can solve this one on your own, as you usually do. Why are you so upset anyways?”

He wasn't upset. Not at all. Sherlock looked down, realizing he had crumpled one of the photos. He let it go, watching it roll off the table. Frustration was racing through his veins, and he looked up at John. 

“Come on, we can spend your made-up holiday together, here. I have way more to offer.” Sherlock said. It sounded wrong. He did not usually say things like this. Sentiment was mixed in with those words. Because, truthfully, he did not want John to leave. The sky outside had darkened, the moon rising slowly. It felt empty in the flat without John. He wanted him to stay. He needed it. 

“Really,” John straightened up, his hand leaving the doorknob. Slowly he walked over. His shoes clicked loudly in the silent room. A dark look came over his features as he got closer. One his tan hands splayed out on the table before he was leaning down, towering over Sherlock. Their faces were inches away. Sherlock felt himself swallow harshly as stormy blue eyes bore into his. John looked down on him, “What can you possibly offer?”

Sherlock felt a tremor race though his body. His face was suddenly burning, coloring the pale skin a deep shade of red. One of his hands came down to grip his pants in comfort as John towered over him. 

“A lot.” 

“Really?” John reached out. His hand settled on Sherlocks arm, slowly trailing upwards. The detective flinched at the touch. Warmth seeped through the material as the large hand traveled up. It lightly touched his neck, leaving a fiery trial. A rough finger smoothed down his jaw and hooked underneath it. John tilted the detectives face up, applying a rough pressure. He stared down, making sure he was not going anywhere. 

“Yes.” Sherlock breathed out.

“That is interesting. I told you how I felt ages ago, and you said you were not ready. But here you are, begging me to stay? Has something changed?”

Sherlock felt his mouth dry up as he opened it up. His tongue danced, forming words, but no sound came out. His blush deepened as he watched John lean in, the blue eyes staring him down. The detective looked up, his own eyes wide like a child. His brain refused to work. The words died out on his tongue at their proximity. John was right there, centimeters away. His cologne drifted over, surrounding the two men. Sherlock drank it in greedily as he swallowed and attempted to talk again.

“M-maybe.”

“Mmm.” John hummed. The sound was deep and throaty, different from the usual tone of the soldier. The finger that had been holding the chin up, trailed away. It smoothed over the plush pink lips of the detective, teasingly dipping in slightly, before drawing back out. 

Sherlock pulled away from the touch. His mind was in overdrive. So many thoughts were floating through, yet none at all. His body was aching with nerves. The blush on his face burned with a fierce intensity as he tore his gaze away from the intimidating look. His lungs drank in sweet oxygen as he finally steadied himself. He looked onto the kitchen. A tea kettle. Silver with a black handle. Slightly stained, cleaned two days ago. John had made tea this morning. He could tell by the cups and the tea bag sticking out of the trash. Yes. There we go. His thoughts were gathering back together. 

“Sherlock.” 

Said man turned his head quickly at the soft-spoken voice calling his name. He looked onto John, who had leaned back slightly, a loving expression on his face. The tan hand resumed the touch, tracing down the lips and to the cheek. Sherlock felt his body lean into the touch as a sigh escaped him.

“Sherlock, do you want… us?” John asked. He was not pushing forward or pulling back. He remained still as he continued tracing the pale skin. Sherlock thought on the question, though the touch kept derailing his thoughts. 

“I am u-unsure, I do not know w-what I feel.” Sherlock mused. It was the truth. He was unsure. It had always been his mantra that emotions were a weakness. But then came John, and suddenly he wanted to be around the man. To smell his musky cologne, to look into those caring eyes. He wanted to feel the rough hands touch him. It was unfamiliar, unknown. He was not sure. It wasn't love… yet. But it was something. His heart ached painfully at the thought of John leaving him for someone else.

“What do you want, Sherlock?”

“I want you to… stay.” A pale hand came up, reaching out to grasp the soldiers wrist. Sherlock wrapped his long digits around the skin, loving the warmth it gave him. He looked into the familiar blue eyes. Excitement raced down his spine as he gave a confident tug; asking with his body, when words would not form. A smile overtook the soldier's face. He leaned in until their noses were brushing against each other. Sherlock looked up at him, eyes wide. He had never done this. But he wanted it. He wanted it with John. His eyes flickered down to the soldiers lips; watching as pink a tongue flicked out, licking them languidly. Butterflies soared through the detective's stomach at the sight. Bright green eyes, glassy with lust, looked back up. His eyes begged. Please. 

“John.”

“Sherlock.” John leaned forward, capturing them into a kiss. Sherlock held onto the wrist as an anchor as he sank into the feeling. His eyelashes fluttered shut as he tilted his head, allowing John access. He felt the soldier press him into the chair, mashing their bodies together. Sherlock let out a loose moan at the feeling. His hands came up to grasp John's shirt for leverage as the kiss deepened. It was soft, their lips brushing against each other for the first time. It was unfamiliar, but most wanted. Sherlock felt light-headed at the touch; the nerves, which have been racking his body, dissipated slowly.

John pulled away, allowing both men to gasp for breath. Sherlock tugged at the rough material of the shirt, a soft whine escaping his lips. He wanted more. More of John. 

The soldier complied, leaning forward for another kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! If anyone has constructive criticism on how I may approve, that is also welcome. Once again, I am accepting prompts!
> 
> Have a lovely day!


End file.
